


Red Eyes In The Morning

by HoldMeApollo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Brother-Sister Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoldMeApollo/pseuds/HoldMeApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot in which Grantaire and his sister (OC) have an argument that ends rather badly. (This is non-canon, but set at the time of Les Mis)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Eyes In The Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote when I was bored. Dunno what made me want to give Grantaire a sister (especially one based off myself), but I always had a background in mind for him. I know its not very good, but if you are reading, thank you for wasting your time! x3 (I'm new to A03 by the way)

I heard the front door fly open and hit against the wall of our modest three-roomed home with a bang. I gripped the sides of the arm chair tightly. The way he opened the door never ceased to startle me. It was like this every night.  
“Grantaire, is that you?” I called out.I received no answer. Most nights I got a grunt, or a groan. I stood up, fixed my night-dress, and opened the living room door. There he was, slumped against the wall of the hallway with an empty bottle in his hand. His shirt was hanging out of his trousers, and his hair looked like it had been ruffled many a time. His eyes were bloodshot and dark and his hair was a dark brown ash curly mess. I shivered; the door was open and the heat was escaping. “You could've at least shut the door behind you” I said with a heavy sigh.

Grantaire lazily kicked the door shut. He started humming and he made his way towards the living room; I knew what he was looking for. I locked the door behind him and followed him. He put his empty bottle down on the counter and went to a cupboard, fumbling around loudly.  
“Just go to bed” I snapped, rubbing my eyes momentarily.   
“Shhh” he slurred, “You’re being too loud”.   
“You’re being louder”. He stopped, looked at me with his droopy eyes and gave up looking himself. Instead, he walked over to where I had been sat and collapsed in the chair. Murmuring words I couldn’t quite understand.  
“Aimee?”   
“Yes?”

“Get me something to drink”. I rolled my eyes, but fulfilled his wish. I got a cup off the other end of the counter and went to the bucket of drinking water, filling it up and then handing it to him. He took sip and glared at me.   
“I meant a proper drink”.  
“That is a proper drink. Water”. He started laughing huskily, putting the cup on the floor.   
“Just wait until you’re older, you’ll know what a proper drink is then”. As a matter of fact, I had tasted what Grantaire regularly drunk and I couldn’t see why him and his friends were so obsessed with it. None of his friends ever got into the state he did anyway. Some of them didn’t even get tipsy at times. Enjolras was a perfect example. I had noticed all this when the club, Les Amis d’ABC, came to our home for a meeting. Grantaire had let me see his friends from a distance briefly before sending me to our parents room and making me stay there through the entirety of the meeting. Of course, I nipped out every now and again to see what was going on. He wasn’t polite enough to introduce me to them though. I thought he’d tone all his drunken nonsense down for me in the process. He didn’t of course.

“The wine you drink is foul Grantaire”. He kept up his laughter.  
“You’d say that, little Angel May. Girls your age love what I drink”. I doubted that. There was a pause, and he spoke again.  
“I don’t suppose there is any of my foul wine in the cupboard?”   
“There isn’t actually”. He looked as if he was about to cry.   
“I bought some the other day” Grantaire murmured, looking puzzled.   
“Yeah, but you drunk it all in one go”.

He almost seemed to growl. He stood up and went to the oak chest, which sat in the corner of the room. On top of the chest lay valuable possessions. My mothers jewellery, my father’s wallet and watch. Time after time I’ve refused to let Grantaire sell any of them. He opened one of the drawers, my drawer, and began thumbing the 500 francs that lay untouched.  
“Grantaire, leave my money alone”. I knew he’d resort to stealing from the money given to me by our parents. He got the greater share of it, and it was meant to keep us both alive.   
“I’m only borrowing some of it Aimee, you’ll get it all back”. I knew I wouldn’t. I went up to him and slammed the drawer shut. It narrowly missed his fingers. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.  
“Was there any need for that?” he grumbled. I didn’t want to aggravate him, but he was aggravating me.

“Yes, there was. You are not having my money. You’ll just go and spend it on more bottles of wine and we’ll go a third week without having any real meals!”  
“You eat don’t you? Some people go without anything! At least you have food”. He made a good argument, even when he was off his head. It was true though, I ate more than the people on the street at least, but I knew how much it mattered to be healthy in today’s society.  
“That’s not the point Grantaire. You are going to spend all our money and we’ll end up on the street. The landlord needs paying sooner or later and your share of the money is getting lower and lower every day”.

“Stop being so worried about it, we have plenty of money”. He knew we didn’t. Why could he just accept that. Stupid man.   
“But we don’t” I said, voice straining, “You are so reckless with it!”  
“I can do what I like with my money!” I felt like screaming at him, but I had to keep my cool. This was my brother after all.  
“You sound like such a child”.  
“You sound like mother”. He didn’t catch himself in time to stop him from saying that. The silence that followed his comment was unbearable. I had to retaliate however.  
“You know what? I’m glad I do. Maybe if I started to talk like her more you’d actually listen to me!”  
“I do listen to you”. He was really trying my patience tonight.  
“When have you ever listened to me? You changed the moment you knew they were going to die, you stopped caring about anyone or anything! You stopped caring about me!”

He looked hurt. I knew he cared for me deep down, but he needed to show it more. I loved Grantaire so much; he just didn’t appreciate that most of the time.  
“Aimee...”.  
“Its the truth though, and you can’t accept it. You drink away your whole life. You care for nothing”.  
“Now, that isn’t true. Give me some credit! Our parents died Aimee, don’t you think I care about that?” Our voices were getting louder. It wasn’t the first time we had argued, but its the first time I felt like physically throwing a tantrum over it.  
“You sure don’t act like it! Even in their dying days you went out and drank yourself silly!”   
“I couldn’t cope...”  
“You left me! They were suffering, I was trying my best to make sure they didn’t feel any pain. All the time they asked where you were and I couldn’t tell them! I had to lie to them as they were dying”. 

It was all coming out now, my eyes welled up with angry tears and Grantaire furiously shoved me out of the way, walking towards the door.   
“What did you expect me to do?” he banged his fist against the wall. He did that often and time after time I thought he’d end up punching through it. There was so much tension, so much anger in the room, and to make it worse he shot me a deathly glare before adding  
“I said, what do you expect me to do! Sit with you and watch them die!” I lost it at that point.

“YES! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I EXPECTED YOU TO DO! I WATCHED THEM DIE! I HELD MOTHER’S HAND, I TOLD FATHER TO FINALLY BE AT PEACE. I HAD TO DO IT ALONE! I HATE YOU GRANTAIRE” I screamed at the top of my voice, tears literally streaming down my face. Grantaire was trembling, with his fists clenched. In a matter of moments, he had spun around and grabbed me. He shoved me violently up against the wall, he had one hand raised and the other had found its way around my neck and was latched on firmly.

His heavy breaths and my quick, sharp breathing were the only noises in the room. I was in complete shock. When his eyes met mine, he froze. He immediately loosened his grip on my throat. It almost seemed like Grantaire was trying to pry his hand off. His other hand fell to his side limply. Grantaire was in utter shock too. He backed away from me, shaking his head.  
“Aimee...I-...”. I slid down to the floor, face buried between my knees. He reached out to comfort me,  
“Grantaire, go to bed”, I whispered, trying not to sob. His hand retreated. The damage had been done. As he went to leave, I gazed up. His eyes met mine again, and the look he gave me told me he was sorry. As he shut the living room door, I heard him breathe out and begin to cry. We’d both have red eyes in the mornin


End file.
